"The Mysterious Painter" by StainedCrimson & E.r.o.s (+18, Yaoi, Smut, 1x1)

[E.r.o.s]

MC:

 

 

 

Name: Shesha

 

Age: Unknown

 

Position: Seke

 

Personality: Sesha is a confident man with a very sharp tongue. He shows immense knowledge for his age and enjoys teasing others, his favorite target being the general. He always speaks his mind and can be extremely harsh sometimes. He always tries to keep cool and elegant for "the sake of beauty", even when he fights. He got excellent fighting skills and finds the sight of blood to be "simply beautiful". Extremely eccentric in nature, he is no demon by any means.....

 

Bio: Unknown

 

 

The master swordsman of the royal palace was sitting on the ground of the training area, surrounded by eyes full of curiosity who waited with anticipation for him to speak. He cleared his throat and his rough hand ruffled the soft strands of hair of the young boy sitting with him. His eyes suddenly looked very distant and his smile grew weary, his age was having a pull of nostalgic at him. The swordsman grabbed his sword and with the sharp tip of it drew the story on the ground as he narrated it.

 

"A very long time ago, one of the ancestors of the queen called a very skill painter to make her portrait. His skills surpassed the royal painters and his drawing were rumor to be gifts from the gods. However, the queen was very skeptical and proposed a test. She first told him to draw a portrait of her servant, and so the young painter did. With every sharp stroke of his brush the painting came to life. The queen was impressed and she said she would pay him a thousand pieces of gold for her portrait."

 

The little boy suddenly interrupted his master with a pouting face.

 

"I know that part already master! I want to hear what happens next!"

 

The little boy complained and his master glared at him softly.

 

"I am getting to that brat. Just sit and listen."

 

His master scolded and continued with the story.

 

"As I was saying, the queen promised to reward him kindly for his work. It took him many, many days to finish the portrait, and once it was done, the queen summoned him to the palace once more. 'Well, show me!' She demanded and the painter uncovered the portrait of the queen. It is said her eyes widen and she covered her mouth in disbelieve. Those around her had the same reaction, they were all stunned and speechless."

 

"What was in the painting master?!"

 

The boy asked eagerly and the swordsman chuckled at the boy's eagerness.

 

"Well, nobody really know what was on the painting brat. Those who saw it were either killed or swore to eternal secrecy. All I know is that the queen was so angry with the painter that she ordered for him to be decapitated publicly for his crime. And that was his fate. His painting was burned and his name was carved in history as a traitor."

 

The master finished explaining and looked at the sky.

 

"It's going to storm tonight. Let's call it a day your highness"

________________________________

 

Many years later...

 

The streets of the capital were as lively as ever, overwhelm by merchants, prostitutes and slave traders who came to the city to carry out business. One man seemed very taken by the sight. He walked down the streets with elegance, his long hair loosely tied into a half pony-tail and he was wearing a very expensive looking kimono. In his hand was a closed fan and he was inspecting every artistic shop in town. He stopped at a gallery showing royal paintings and let out a mocking laughter.

 

"And what is this supposed to be? A pig with clothes?"

 

The strange man insulted and everyone around him laughed, except of course for the owner of the gallery. The owner was a famous painter who worked for the queen, and he was deeply offended by the stranger's comment.

 

"And who are YOU?"

 

The man questioned clearly angry. He was short and fat, dressed in mismatch clothing that were made of fine clothing. He was dark skinned with a round belly and short feet, a complete insult to beauty. The stranger inspected the painter and a grimace appeared on his lips.

 

"Like painter his paintings"

 

The strange man mumbled and smiled at the owner.

 

"No one, just a simple passerby"

 

The critic replied causing the owner of the gallery to anger even more. The fat man called the guards passing by and smirked.

 

"A simple passerby giving opinions where nobody asked for them! Let see how long that sharp tongue of yours lasts once is cut off"

 

The royal painter threatened and the guards took the stranger away. The man simply peaked at them and put no resistance as they dragged him out of the gallery and onto the palace.

[StainedCrimson]

 

Name: Hidechi

Age: Uncertain

Position: Seme

 

Personality: Proud and confident, but not prone to arrogance beyond what was drilled into him growing up as the prince. Can only keep a person from the trappings of royalty so much after all. Diligent and prone to being almost too serious when working, he still enjoys his small hobbies and relaxing alone in the inner gardens which seem like living works of art. His favorite being the water and zen garden. Still, it's prowess when it comes to fighting and using weaponry that has led him to being confident and able to where he can state that he rightly earned his position as the General, and did not receive a handout.

 

----------------------------------------------------------------

 

Loud screeching clangs of metal on metal echo throughout the courtyard as two figures lunge and circle each other. Both were about the same size, but one moved in a way that seemed more sure of himself and soon knocked the other to the ground in a move where his sword almost seemed to snake around to catch the others as in a graceful twisting move, knocks the other male's legs out from under him while a hand shoots out and up hitting the body square in the chest. Ending in a crouch prepared for another round, the other flies back before hitting the ground with a loud thud.

 

After a few moments the crouched figure stands and takes off his helmet. Striding over to the fallen figure, the winner grins down and offers a hand to help the winded male up. "Still a long ways to go before you can beat me." To which the other laughs and shakes his head. "General, I doubt anyone here can ever hope to beat you. Still won't stop me from trying though." The now identified General laughs and smacks the other's shoulder in approval. "I look forward to it. Now then, the rest of you! Back to work!" He barks suddenly serious and no-nonsense. This causes the those watching to either go back to their duties or exercises.

 

Striding off after telling his sparring partner to get his breath, he goes inside to his counseling room. It was wear he planned all his moves and plans, including the training regiments as well as planning a war or offering protection to someone. As such there's a large table carved into the likeness of the realm, all the kingdoms and vast lands between them carved onto a large singular piece of wood so that it dips and curves. Miniature carvings of the various houses and kingdoms are placed where they rule or hold seats with chairs next to them should any representatives be there to convene with him on something. Overall, it was an amazing and one of a kind piece of artwork and was the gem of the room and possibly the kingdom itself.

 

Circling the table he moves the figures representing the other kingdoms' armies to where the intelligence had last relayed them to be. As he's doing so, the light plays across it and reflects off on the various bits of artwork set about the room. A few are ancient weapons, armor, but others are old paintings or carvings of various precious stones or metals. Perhaps more interesting and precious are lifesized carvings of animals and people though they are very few and placed in places where they amplify the room but aren't the focal points.

 

His study of the table is interrupted by a commotion that seems to be coming his way. With a deep growling sigh, his eyes snap to the door as it bursts open and guards come stomping into the room without waiting for his go ahead. "Just what is the meaning of this?" His voice comes out as deceptively calm even as his eyes flash with his irritation causing the guards to swallow nervously and almost back up. As one they apologize. "Sir! We're sorry sir!" Barely refraining from rolling his eyes he stares them down. "What is so important that you came barging in without waiting for the go ahead?"

[E.r.o.s]

The stranger was surveying the marvelous ability of the architecture of the royal palace when one soldier pushed him forward. The guard gripped his kimono and dragged him inside while shouting "Move it" at the top of his lungs. The young man wondered if men thought themselves to be stronger by the tone of their voices, but his current of thoughts were interrupted by another rough push. This time, he was about to complain at the treatment when he landed on the floor. He bit back a moan of pain as his side was hurt and his beautiful face scratched. Dark black strands spread across the floor messily and his kimono had moved slightly showing part of the smooth skin hidden beneath the silky clothing.

 

The man's eyes fluttered from under his eyelashes as he made contact with the cold floor. That was when the velvet rich voice reached his ear and he curiously lifted his body to make eye contact with the leader of the brutal guards. He had expected to find an old man with an scary expression like those depicted in books, but his thoughts were betrayed when instead, he encountered the very handsome face of his captor. His eyes didn't falter and he stared straight into the general's eyes with calmness beyond his situation.

 

"Sir, this man has offended the royal painter Padelmo! He has criticized his painting of the queen and has crudely called her majesty "a pig with clothes". Of course Sir Padelmo was outraged and asked for you Sir to give this man a proper punishment for insulting our queen and himself, Sir"

 

One of the soldiers was the one that explained while the remaining men stood quietly in the room. The soldier seemed to be the head of the vigilance group for that area, he was tall, blonde, and no older than his 20ths. He spoke to his general with respect and admiration, watching his every word carefully and not omitting a single detail. The man had been working for the General for about two years, and he looked up to him just like many others.

 

"May I speak?"

 

All of a sudden, the prisoner spoke and all heads turned to him. The man smirked once all attention was on him and shifted his body a bit till he was comfortable. He opened his mouth to speak but one of the soldiers pointed a sword at his throat. His eyes drifted to the sword and then to the young soldier that had spoke earlier.

 

"Keep your mouth shut in front of his highness!"

 

The soldier holding the sword ordered him. The youngster from before interrupted and motioned for his friend to put the sword down. The stranger smiled too calmly and finally spoke.

 

"I swear Sir that by no means did I intended to insult the queen"

 

His eyes once more set upon his captor as he attempted to explain himself.

 

"I was simply defending the queen!"

 

Everyone in the room gasped and the soldier pointed his sword to the prisoner's throat once again, this time making a small cut on the flawless skin.

 

"Dont speak such lies! We all heard when you called the queen a "pig with clothing!"

 

They all nodded in agreement, but the stranger didn't seemed shaken in the least as he continued his defense.

 

"I speak no lies! You all simply misunderstood my intentions! When I glanced at that painting I was so shocked! The painter was not able to depict his highness true beauty at all! The painting was an insult to her majesty flawless beauty!"

 

This time everyone looked at him rather convinced and the stranger smirked internally. He just hoped his poor acting skills were enough to get him out of the situation without having to shed blood. He moved around trying to find his fan and let out a soft sigh of relieve when he felt the small piece of wood touch the skin of his thigh.

[StainedCrimson]

An eye almost seems to twitch when he hears the reason for his subordinates to come crashing into his planning room. "...That's it? That's the reason you all barged into this room without my leave?" He asks in a deceptively calm voice. "From what I'm hearing he's criticizing the painter's work and not the subject. Even then we're not so strict here as to condemn every single critique." His gaze settles on the stranger shoved into the room. "Though some would think that outsiders would be more prudent and less careless in an unfamiliar territory."

 

Watching the oddly beautiful man pick himself up, the General finds himself a bit disappointed at seeing the exposed flesh recovered. Still, his face betrays none of this while the sharp gaze focuses on the man responsible for his planning time being interrupted. When the man gets up asking to speak and the overly excitable guard puts his sword to the other's throat, the general can't help but give a soft sigh of exasperation while watching the show continue.

 

Straightening up to look at the group before him, his eyebrow goes up on his otherwise impassive face when the stranger claims to have been defending the queen. "Well then... I guess the only way to settle and prove this farce of charge is to have our critique here make his own painting of my mother and then compare the two. Simple enough yes? Now then, go see him settled in proper quarters with supplies that he'll need and I'll talk to my mother later about this."

 

As the guards leave he mutters under his breath. "And the kingdom knows it could use a bit of fresh air in terms of painters around here. That man has no talent whatsoever..." He's seen the man's paintings yes, and he personally would never go to him for a painting of any kind, but his mother for whatever reason seemed fond of him. So much to his chagrin he has to put up the pompous fool to keep her happy.

 

For his own devices he goes to the metalworkers, carvers, builders and even gardeners for ideas and techniques. After all, since he criticizes others himself despite not always being very vocal about it, he figures it's only fair he make his own pieces to back up his words. This room itself is a minor tribute to his efforts as Hidechi was the one to hand carve and paint the table along with the pieces and chairs to go with it, in addition to the statues tucked in around the room.

 

Once done rearranging the pieces to reflect the current intelligence and to start planning his own moves, he decides it's time to check up on the soldiers and make rounds before going to get cleaned up for dinner. At dinner he'll talk to his mother about having this visiting critique paint her in order to settle the matter, and maybe give that Padelmo a good kick back into place. Smirking to himself he quickly and efficiently makes his rounds, checking in the with the ones in charge on the progress of the training and other matters, making sure supplies are in order, and that schedules are being kept to as best as possible.

 

Finishing that he strides to his room where a steaming bath is waiting for him along with clean clothes. Savoring the bath, he slowly washes up before soaking for awhile. Reluctantly he gets up to dry off and get dressed before heading out to face his mother. With a resigned sigh he enters the room and sits beside her after kissing her cheek. "Evening mother." He greets.

[E.r.o.s]

The young painter eyes widen slightly at the mention of his origins, but he tried to display indifference at the general's knowledge. He accepted the man's verdict without protest and went along as the men dragged him away. The young soldier from before released him, his eyes staring at the foreigner suspiciously. With his hands now untied, the stranger rubbed the red marks on his wrists and followed the crowd of guards down the dark hallways of the palace. He stayed behind as they walked, continuously slowing down his own steps till their was a fair distance between the group of men and himself. A piece of iron tipped his lower back softly and he turned to see it had been the handle of the sword of the young soldier.

 

"Please keep up with the rest, I wouldn't want you to get lost inside the palace"

 

The soldier said, a hint of a threat in his voice. The painter nodded quickly and moved toward the group of men unwillingly. They walked a bit further, the stranger keeping his eyes open for any chance at escaping but the young soldier had his eyes on him like a hawk. They were almost at the guest room when the chance finally presented itself. The soldier stopped to give direction to the group of soldiers and while his attention was drifted to his men, the beautiful man sneaked away. When the men noticed there was someone missing, it was already too late, the prisoner was half way down the hall.

 

"GET HIM!"

 

One of the man shouted and they all went after him. The stranger didn't even spared a glance as he turned left and right trying to find his way back. Had he only been observing, all hope would have been lost, but he had been memorizing the path and not only admiring the well made sculptures. The soldiers tried to catch up but the man was certainly fast with his feet.

 

'Almost there'

 

He finally crossed the main entrance and was about to head out of the palace when someone shouted from above.

 

"Get HIM! HE IS ESCAPING! GUARDS!"

 

the young soldier from before was shouting. The painter stopped on his tracks as a bunch of guards appeared to be blocking it. He sighed and searched his kimono, glaring at the men in front of him.

 

"Seems like I can't get away the easy way"

 

He murmured to himself as the guards finally catch up to him and he was suddenly surrounded. Sharp swords were drawn pointing at him threatening and the youngster from before was glaring daggers through him as he approached. The painter searched his kimono slowly and gripped the fan hiding inside of it. At the blink of an eye, his fan and the sword of the young soldier clashed loudly. The painter smirked while the soldier stared in awe.

 

"Ugh!!"

 

The soldier growled as he swung again and was met by the strong fan of the painter. They clashed over and over again and nobody dared to move, watching the two men fight.

 

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? ATTACK HIM!"

 

The soldier ordered and the guards followed his command. Around twentieth man came aiming at his head. The painter jumped agile in the air avoiding most clashes and kicked two soldiers on their faces making them fall back while supporting himself on the head of another. His kimono was suddenly caught by a sword and he pulled to get away, making the cloth rip all the way to his thigh. He cursed softly, and hit the soldier responsible for it straight in the center of his big forehead with the tip of his fan. The long black pony-tail moved back and forth at the painter's acrobatics until half of the men were down.

 

The stranger caught his breath and glared at the soldiers who were now panting desperately. They tried attacking him to no avail. The painter took one of the swords on the floor and cut the arm of one soldier. This one shouted in pain, but the man paid no attention as he used the blood to draw on his fan. A warm light surrounded his body all of a sudden as he attempted to complete the drawing.

[StainedCrimson]

The noise is so loud that Hidechi can hear it from the dining area, though it's not that far from where the fight eventually took place. Hearing the shouts of the soldiers and the clamoring of them running he sighs while pushing his chair back. "Excuse me mother. It seems that the guards are having issues escorting our guest to his chambers. I'll be back shortly once this has been dealt with."

 

A faint frown on his face he strides out of the room and down to where the fighting has now ensued. The ones that see him immediately straighten up and back out of his way, not daring to so much as glance at one another. He pauses seeing this stranger making a mockery of the guards trying to apprehend him. When the one loses his arm he decides to intervene.

 

As the foreigner is attempting to draw on his fan with the blood, he snatches a sword from a soldier nearby and runs his hand down the metal. The metal seems to ripple and move into his hand like a pet seeking its master's affection and touch. Dropping the hilt guard he shifts forward and his hand whips out. A line of liquid metal shoots out like a whip, shifting his hands and stance he maneuvers the metal to quickly wrap around the drawing male then tightening to pin his arms and legs before solidifying.

 

Standing up he walks over to the now bound male. "Really now... I'm more than fair in dealing with you and you try to run? What's more you dismembered one of my men." Said man is being rushed off to the medical bay as they try to staunch the bleeding. The man himself has long since passed out from the blood loss and shock. "Since you seem to find my hospitality lacking, I shall escort you to your quarters myself." In one swift movement he grabs one of the strips of metal to lift and shift the other into his arms to carry.

 

Turning on his heel he marches off into castle towards where the other was going to be taken anyway, but goes even further. "There will be no further attempts at escape or else I'll have no choice but to have a limb removed. Not my rules but the rules nonetheless. Knowing my mother she'll demand one of your hands at the very least, if not the whole arm." He comments idly before finally stopping at a door deep inside the palace.

 

It's clear by the guards themselves that this is an area frequented by very few other than the royal family itself. "Since you've made yourself quite the target with that stunt, I'll have to put you with men who are far superior to those I had escorting you before. My room is near here and I'll be sure to visit with you properly once I've finished dinner with my mother." Carefully he sets the pretty man on the bed. "Unfortunately I don't trust you enough to take this off, but should you require water or something else to drink someone will bring it to you. Otherwise you're welcome to rest until I return." With a curt nod he turns and leave the room to go back to his mother.

[E.r.o.s]

The painter laid on the wide king size bed uncomfortably, moving around trying to get the piece of metal restraining him undone. His ears perked at the general's dry tone, his hole body stiffening aware of how dangerous he man was. He remained quiet throughout the one-sided conversation, refusing to pay any attention to his captor, although he knew the man meant every word said. When the man left the room, a huge sigh of relieve he didn't realized he had been holding escaped his slightly parted lips. The painter long hair got stuck in the metal as the male beauty moved around and sharp pain reached his cranium, inciting a moan of pain from him.

 

He bit down on his lip and glared at nowhere in particular, going over the events that got him into this situation. Everything had occurred so quickly that he had barely managed to react at all. He had been fighting the man effortlessly, one after the other falling at his side. They were no match for his ancient strength, and he had known it from the beginning, reason why he tried to avoid the bloodshed. Then, all of a sudden, there were restrains all over his body, tightening with his every effort to break free of them. He even tried to use pure strength to get away, but the sharp metal made clean cuts all over his thin arms. The red essence was still leaking out and down his skin in stinging pain. How could he, with his inhuman sharp senses, not noticed the attack coming?! His curiosity towards the general was increasing more every time.

 

Suddenly, he heard voices from outside the door and figured it was the guards assigned to watch over him. Suddenly, an idea occurred to him. He moved to the very edge of the bed and attempted to fall. His body rolled onto the floor with a loud sound alerting the guards outside.

 

"What was that?!"

 

One of them shouted and they almost opened the door. The painter sharp teeth bit into his bottom lip and blood dropped on the floor mixed with saliva. The man growled in disgust but he knew he had no option but to use this as "ink". The tip of his tongue passed his full lips and touched the seemingly clean floor. He tried not to puke at the raw taste and patiently drew what seemed like a hole on the floor. His tongue slid over the wood slowly as more saliva aided in making his "work of art". When the huge circle was finally closed, the stranger coughed, his throat dried and the aftertaste in his mouth was horrible.He tried to spit out the taste unsuccessfully and settle for it.

 

Suddenly, a loud voice asking for help was heard loudly across the silent hall. The guards, who had been napping, jumped surprised and quickly opened the door to the room. Their eyes widen at the man lying on the floor ever so helplessly, his long hair tangled with the metals and his clothing ripped. Desperate eyes searched for help, finally making eye contact with the guards. The men stood in their place keeping their distance, perfectly aware of the general's orders and afraid of the man's well-known punishment for disobedience.

 

"Please help! This metal...ah!! my skin! Help!"

 

The painted, master at cheap acting, shouted. His eyes were tearing exaggerating the pain and he shifted calculatingly showing the still bleeding wounds on his arms. Fear that the prisoner would die overwhelmed the guards, and they quickly ran to help the pretty "lady". A huge smirk made its way to the face of the painter, covered by the silky long bangs of his dark strands of hair as a dark hole opened on the floor swallowing the both men whole, with their outfits and everything they carried with them. The painter swiftly caught one sword with his teeth and stared calmly as the hole closed. With the sword he attempted to break the metal, loud moans of pain escaping his throat at the pain it was causing him.

 

Soft pants filled the room as he laid tired on the floor, all his efforts going to waste. The metal just wouldn't bend to anything, and he was exhausted already.

[StainedCrimson]

Exhausted from dealing with his mother, it's needless to say he was less than pleased to find out what had happened during his absence. Standing over the fallen and bleeding artist, the near scowl causes sharp lines to form on his face making him seem more like the terrifying figure the soldiers find him to be. "Again you try to escape. I'm not sure whether you're a fool or just an ignorant and uncultured swine, but this will cease." Grabbing the front band, his fingers brushing and pressing against a nipple through the cloth as he grabs and lifts the immobile man, Hidechi sets his prisoner back on the bed.

 

"It was particularly useless of you to try and break free from those bands. Despite the odd powers you seem to possess, it does not compare to mine when you're so limited as you are." Going over to a table that has some refreshments on it, he pours himself a drink before turning to face the male on his bed, eyes void of emotion. "Now then, are you able to bring my men back? If not then the punishment of losing a body part will be carried out immediately." There is no humor or sadistic sense of pleasure in his face as he states the terms. There is only fact and a sense of someone who takes his duty very seriously.

 

Taking a long swallow of the cool drink, Hidechi keeps his gaze firmly locked on the other to watch for any and all signs as to what the male may be thinking or going to attempt. A longer look makes him think about how potentially vain this stranger might be. If so...

 

"Or if you refuse to answer me then your hair might be the first thing to go." He tosses out casually to see how the other will respond. That should tell him one way or the other how attached he [the painter] is to his physical appearance. Straightening up he slowly walks over to the bed, glass in hand to pause just in front of this unexpected guest. "Well? What shall it be? My men or your hair?" He asks bluntly before taking another drink.

[E.r.o.s]

The painter's dark orbs met the cold ones of the general fiercely. They stared into each other eyes for the longest of times, battling internally with one another till one of them broke eye contact and smirked.

 

"Alright I'll bring them back"

 

The statement itself sounded too simple, too easy. His eyes glinted with malice and full lips curved into a disturbing smile. Bangs covered the beautiful face as the man shifted on his place to rise to his knees. Eyes gazed once more at the handsome face of the general, his own cunning and mischievous. The tip of his tongue reached out to encircled the tip of the glass the other man was holding, and perfect white teeth bit into the thin material to tip the glass slightly. Red whine dripped onto the floor functioning as ink for the painter. Some of it fell onto his already ripped clothing making it seem transparent, but he did not cared. His nipples showed through the thin piece of clothing as this one fell from his shoulder in a tantalizing manner. The flawless skin under showed, smooth and untouched.

 

The young beauty shifted once again on the bed. His legs reached for the small puddle of red liquid and he began to draw with his feet like the messy painter he was. Soft words in an ancient language unknown to humans left his lips as he did so, and he sweat becoming slightly pale. The dark-haired ignored the pain such a simple spell caused to his body showing no sign of weakness as he completed the spell. Sentences in an strange handwriting appeared around the drawing and this one was glowing brightly.

 

The mysterious man pulled away, his feet dirtying the recently changed bed sheets. He watched as something began to take three dimensional form inside the drawing and surfaced. The figure of two men appeared in front of them. Their clothes soon took form as well, and finally their bodies materialized. The puddle of red wine disappeared from under them, and the two guards fell onto the floor like dead bodies with no sustenance to keep them standing. Their eyes were completely white and their lips parted with a abominable expression. Their bodies felt cold and they looked pale, nothing other than their skeleton and skin left of the person they used to be.

 

A soft maniac laughter left the painter's mouth and he glared at the general defiantly. His smirk now visible and as he gazed at the other man, he looked amused with the situation. He was not surprised in the least by how his spell had turned out. There was always some kind of sacrifice involve when using such powerful magic, in his case the sacrificial item was "essence". The essence of a human was their soul. He had suspected it, but now he was a hundred percent sure. They had served as good test subjects.

 

"Here you have them, your guards, or what's left of them that is"

 

He said mockingly to their boss, no remorse what so ever hidden behind his icy words. He sniffed at his long hair and rubbed his cheek against the soft strands watching the other man carefully, awaiting his possibly explosive response with anticipation.

[StainedCrimson]

A stricken look crosses his face briefly as he crosses over to the corpses. Kneeling down he gently closes the eyes and eases their positions so they look less unnatural and uncomfortable. Continuing to ignore the painter he goes to the door. "Send for the undertaker. Tell him we have two for him. Also, I'll be making personal house calls to the families to give my condolences though the idiots should have known better than to go near him." A chorus of 'yes sir's follow his orders before footsteps are heard leaving the hallway.

 

Only once he's certain that the others have left does he turn and face the painter. The eyes cold and hard yet flames of anger flicker within them which causes the sight of the smooth exposed body to be ignored. "It would seem I'm wrong. You're just as ugly as that pathetic painter my mother currently favors. Perhaps I've been too lenient with you and that is another mistake I shall not make again. And here I was thinking of thinking of trying to interest you enough to share my bed while you were in town." Taking care of the 'art' the painter has done, he hefts the other male up easily and carelessly tosses him onto the bed before cleaning up the mess.

 

When he threw the man onto the bed, he'd stroked the metal again and made it ripple before it tightened and form an inner edge so if the painter moves it'll cut into his flesh. Once done he tosses the towel aside then faces the prisoner. "Those two you killed were comrades of mine. Ones I personally trained and fought with. Good honest men and one of whom was to be a first time father." Stopping in front of the other he stares down, mercy not seen anywhere on his being. "So tell me why I should bother sparing your life all together instead of just cutting you up limb by limb. Perhaps if you make it good enough I'll only take a hand."

 

Inside he's slowly building to a rage. While not as immediately explosive like his mother the Queen, he does have a temper and it's about to make itself known. Just how with this attractive stranger is uncertain. But blood and pain are highly likely as now the painter had built himself quite the debt and Hidechi intends to collect in full. "Come on now, let's hear what you have to say. No need to get shy on me all of a sudden."

[E.r.o.s]

The painter swallowed with difficulty, the pointy edge of the metal only a mere distance from his throat, making the act even seem difficult. His eyes dared not look at the angry general, instead they glanced at the empty spot on the floor where the corpses had been laying just minutes ago. Just for a slice of second, he felt a tiny bit of remorse overwhelmed him, his usual icy heart giving a particularly hard pound against his chest and he abruptly looked away in embarrassment. His fangs bit into the flesh of his bottom lip and he refused to give into the humane emotions but it was difficult with the eyes of the general on him. He need not to look at the man to know the pain crossing through his handsome face, or the rage emitting from his body that threatened to rip him apart. Another man would have whimpered at the sight and frightened would have beg pitilly for his life.

Deep in his thoughts, he had ignored the man's intentions with his body. His sharp ears only registered the bleeding words that left the other man lips.

 

Ugly....

 

The general couldn't even begin to imagine how truly ugly he was. The monster hidden beneath the beautiful flesh, roaring everyday with the thirst for blood. He couldn't agree more with that words, not even the most unskilled painter could make a painting as ugly as his soul. But he couldn't die here, not yet, not without taking the even greater monster who had caused him to become this way. He was ugly, but that woman, there was simply not words to describe her. Her cruel eyes, her sinister smile and selfish words, but the creature controlling her from behind the scenes was the truly horrifying one.

 

How much blood would I have to keep sharing till I get there? Would I take her place by the time all this is done? Would I also end up like her with my hands full of blood and controlled by the darkness lying within me?...

 

Determined eyes looked into the dark orbs of the other man. He ignored the sharp blade slightly cutting his neck, and the way the metals squeezed so hard that it might truly shatter his every bone. His lips parted to talk, no tricks this time, only his words as the only weapons. He would prove to this man he wasn't as cruel as his actions lead him to think, those two lives he took in vain, although there was no way to make up for them, he'll take the punishment with his own body.

 

"Allow me to become your bodyguard. I promise to protect you with my life and in exchange, you'll be able to do as you please with me. I'll pay their lives with my own flesh, I'll receive any punishment you see fit"

 

The painter's eyes searched the general's face carefully and a bit of fear began to built on his stomach although he didn't showed it.

[StainedCrimson]

A frown, nearly a snarl crosses his face. "And just what could the likes of you guard me against? Even if I thought I could trust you enough to do so, of which I have absolutely no reason to, why would I agree to let you be in a position to guard me?" Not that he really needs guarding. His ability, of which the other seems to not realize just how much of it is Hidechi himself and not just using an enchanted metal, allows him much more safety than most would have access to. Even ignoring his own fighting abilities, his ability to manipulate and control metal much like most can do with beasts is unique. That is all him [Hidechi] and has nothing to do with an outside magic or tampering with metal.

 

As if in response to his growing agitation and disbelief, the metal shifts squeezing the painter slightly but not enough to deepen any of the cuts. Yet. Taking a deep breath he struggles to calm himself a little before refacing his prisoner. "Even if I disregard that aspect of your proposal, what's to stop me from taking you as I please now until I tire of you and then just killing you?" This is a good question as it would take little more than a though to adjust the metal to split and force the man's legs apart and hold them open for the Prince's pleasure.

 

Slowly stalking over to the painter he stares back down, a look of hunger growing as if he can smell the growing fear despite the other's best attempts to keep it hidden. Anger and growing arousal from the whole situation and adrenaline rush is causing him to get hungry. A deep hunger though that could be eventually appeased by food, or more quickly by dominating the imprisoned male in the most primal of ways and giving himself satisfaction in a variety of ways. This was only encouraged as the man has offered up his body as payment already, even though he really has no choice by this point. "Best hurry and make your case before I just decide to indulge and enjoy myself regardless of your feelings or intent."

[E.r.o.s]

The painter's eyes widened in horror, every inch of his body screaming at him that the other man was a real beast and that he would carried out his threats. His eyes settle sharply on the other man face and never moved, although he was clearly looking for a way out desperately. Unconsciously, he bit into his lip in frustration as he listened to every brutal word promising him a terrible end. His body trembled under the gaze of the other man, his strength giving away as he went limp and his face paled. The beautiful man fell breathless to the man's strong presence as this one approached him like a dangerous predator rounding his victim. It was difficult to swallow, his breath was heavier, and he felt deep silent fear. He took a feast of his clothing and finally looked away pridefully.

 

"Men...not even a hundred of your men could go up against me...this county needs protection from boarding countries, the enemies would tremble in fear and fall to your feet the stronger your man are...you are but one man, not matter how strong you are, you need strong men by your side. Don't you think it would be a waste to let this chance pass? I can be very useful, not only fighting, but my abilities allows me to infiltrate places easily, to gather information easier than any of your messengers....to kill without leaving a trace...a perfect act of assassination as the one you just witnessed yourself. Do you still think I have no use? If so, go ahead and end my life, as for my body, you can do as it pleases u for I feel nothing of such actions. If it pleases you to fuck a mere doll then go ahead."

 

Defiance was clear in the prisoner's voice. The man held his chin high with pride, a soft smirk threatening to escape his perfect formed lips. He knew his argument was good, he had given all he had to offer and there was nothing else he could say or do at this point. Soft drops of sweat ran down the side of his face, slowly down his cheek, jaw line, and finally his exposed neck. His wounds were starting to bleed again, and he was tempted to cough from the strong pain on his chest.

 

'Dammit'

 

Soft curses ran through his conflicted mind as the pain in his chest increased. He knew he had exalted his limits when he used so much power at once, his weakened human body was breaking inside at the unimaginable pressure that the spells were causing. He kept a strong facade, but his smooth skin was starting to pale and he knew he wouldn't last much longer in this state. Unconsciousness threatened to take over but he kept awake, aware that his life was in the hands of the general. He awaited the final verdict, preparing for the worse.

[StainedCrimson]

"You do myself and my men a lot of disservice with your words. While I know none of them are on my level, I've had much more training and experience then they could ever hope to have." His mother of course being the main foe though many wouldn't suspect such. No queen would dare put her precious only son and heir in danger now would she? Barely refraining from scoffing, the general stops just short of his prisoner. "That aside I wouldn't trust you enough to go far from me to do assassination jobs however, your skill cannot be denied."

 

Looking over the more critically and analytically, he does have to admire the body that attests to its owner's job of training it and keeping it in shape, even as he goes pale. "Seems like you don't know how to pace yourself or keep from overexerting yourself with your abilities though." Waving a hand to indicate the clear paling of the other. "Still, I shall keep you around as another tool to help train my men. New tactics and skills are always good things to learn, but you'll also be within my sight and means at all times this way as well."

 

Kneeling down his eyes fix firmly on the others as his fingers stroke the metal causing it to respond even more eagerly and quickly to his will. "Know that any attempt to run, harm myself or my men will be dealt with harshly and swiftly." With that warning the metal slides up to form a long thing sword in his hand except for a seamless band around the painter's neck which feels almost nonexistent and moves with him without restricting or pressing against his throat no matter how he moves. "If any evidence of you turning on me again comes to light, this band will slowly strangle you before finally slicing your head off when you're just about to pass out from the pain and lack of air."

 

Standing back up he stares at the other for a moment longer before turning and striding to a table in his room. "Now then. You interrupted my dinner with your stunt earlier and mother waits for no one so I'm still hungry. Food is coming and if you're able to gather yourself and sit at the table you may join me to eat dinner." Settling down at the table seemingly nonchalant or caring about the pale man on his floor, he fixes himself a cup of tea and sips it while waiting for his food. Though the entire time his full focus is on said man and what he'll do.